


Touching

by Sandyclaws68



Category: Naruto
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, loving relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandyclaws68/pseuds/Sandyclaws68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it doesn't need to be skin-to-skin contact</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching

Iruka flinched when the alarm on his cell phone went off, shattering the pre-dawn quiet of the bedroom. And as he did nearly every morning he vowed that he would kill Genma for programming it with that ultra-annoying crazy frog ringtone. Of course not being much of a techie himself meant that he had to first get Genma to de-program it, but he sometimes wondered if it was worth it. Just killing him – then buying a new phone - would be so much more satisfying.

Kakashi always laughed at what he called the “great existential crisis of Iruka's life”.

Iruka sighed and rolled over, reaching out with a hand towards the nightstand. He groped around, trying to find the phone so he could shut the damned alarm off. But in the half-dark, with his mind still slightly muddled by sleep, he couldn't get his finger on the screen so he settled for simply knocking the phone to the floor. It didn't stop the alarm, but the noise was considerably less annoying when muffled by the carpet.

He sighed again as he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed, pushing hair away from his eyes. Kakashi. The older man had been away on an extended mission for just over three weeks, and as he always did Iruka missed him to an almost irrational degree. Most of the time he was able to keep himself distracted from it – dodging kunai and shuriken thrown by seven year olds was a _fabulous_ distraction – but in the twilight moments before sleep and just after waking he had a habit of letting the loneliness and the worry roll through him.

He stood and made his way to the bathroom, grunting as he stepped on the phone in the process. At least it finally shut the annoying alarm off. He bent over and picked the device up, tossing it on the bed and doing his best to ignore the photo of himself and Kakashi that was the wallpaper. He scrubbed a hand over his face as he entered the bathroom, blinking against the bright light on white tiled walls. And before he did anything else he lay his fingers on the glaring orange handle of Kakashi's toothbrush. It was just for a moment; a hint, a heartbeat, almost a kiss.

For luck.

****~**~**~**~**~****

Kakashi hated missions to the Land of Rivers. No matter what the mission objective was and what route he chose to get there it pretty much always involved a day long slog through a swamp. And not the nice sort of rivers-of-grass swamps that he had seen on the borders of Fire and Wave Country. No, in the Land of Rivers it was always mud-bogged, foul-smelling, and mosquito-infested swamp.

He rubbed a hand on the back of his head, wincing at the grungy feeling of his hair. That was the other thing he hated about the Land of Rivers; that no matter what you did the mud, and the smell, ended up permeating everything, including your own hair and skin. He had managed a sort-of bath the night before, in a shallow hot spring he had come across, but barely three hours into the day's travel he felt like he hadn't seen water that wasn't a component of mud in over a month.

But he had a remedy for all of that. He tugged his mask down till it was below his nose and lifted his left hand to his face, inhaling deeply. Rising up out of the morass of moist earth and swamp gas came the scent of apples, its source a slender strip of cloth wrapped around his wrist.

Iruka's favorite shampoo had never smelled better.

****~**~**~**~**~****

Kakashi lay in bed, enjoying a rare opportunity to relax. No mission, no training, just a couple of days off, and all accomplished without chakra exhaustion and a twenty-four hour hospital stay. The only thing wrong with the picture was that, although he had arranged for time off from the mission desk, Iruka still had to fulfill his duties at the Academy.

At that moment his grumbling voice could be clearly heard from the living room. Although he couldn't make out any words Kakashi recognized the tone; Iruka was unsuccessfully searching for something. He grinned as he imagined the younger man's face, flushed with frustration and left eyebrow twitching (it was always the left one). He could solve the entire problem quickly, he knew, but there was an element of humor in watching the situation unfold.

Finally, after a few more fruitless minutes of searching Iruka left the apartment they shared, calling out a farewell and mentioning what time he expected be home. He sounded calmer, but the slam of the door gave the game away. Kakashi laughed a little to himself; he knew just how to fix things.

He spent a fairly leisurely morning; he checked his weapons for damage from his last mission and spent an enjoyable two hours playing with the ninken, having no other purpose but fun in mind. At just after twelve in the afternoon he walked through the Academy's gate, carrying a bag of takeout from Iruka's favorite soba place, and made his way to the tree that stood just outside the younger man's classroom. He sent out a small tendril of chakra to get the other's attention and when Iruka turned to look out the window held up the bag, smiling as Iruka's face brightened.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the unsuccessfully-searched-for red pen, waving it like a red flag in front of a bull.

****~**~**~**~**~**~****

Iruka didn't mind laundry; in fact it was one of the few household chores that he didn't view with at least a small amount of repugnance. It was also the least labor intensive cleaning job, since the machines did most of the work. And he willingly accepted it as one of his responsibilities around the house, since it got him out of most of the cooking. There had been a few bumps when he and Kakashi had first begun living together, mainly caused by Kakashi's tendency to pull his shirts off inside out. Iruka had managed to train him out of that bad habit, though.

The latest load had just come out of the dryer, and he was enjoying the warmth given off by the clothes on the chilly, dreary day. Of course warm clothes fresh from the dryer meant a bit of a fight with Haineko, but he didn't even mind that since it gave him time with his beloved feline. And it wasn't like he didn't keep at least five lint brushes in the house for the sole purpose of removing cat hair.

He was working on folding the dark clothes; uniform shirts and pants, and the singlets Kakashi wore with the extra material that made up his mask. He always took special care with those, making sure he carefully, almost tenderly, smoothed the fabric of each mask before it was folded within the shirt. It was like a ritual for him, and Kakashi had once asked why he went to the extra trouble.

“Because if I touch every mask then it means my hands will always be cradling your face.”

**Author's Note:**

> An outgrowth of my Tumblr post [here](http://sandyclaws68.tumblr.com/post/129370323041/moggsi-i-cant-stop-thinking-about-kakairu#notes). I even tagged the post with "I feel a fic coming on". :D


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